Little Plastic Demons
by YamiTami
Summary: There's more than just a rock star's vanity that makes this transition hard. //spoilers for the fourth game//


**Since people are still interested in my fics over here and FFN has fixed a couple (but not near all) of the issues it's been having, I'll start posting my stories here again. This is really against my better judgment and if they screw up so that dashes disappear or the ads somehow get more annoying, then I'm not coming back. It's bad enough they still don't allow tildies for no apparent reason.**

**I'm posting this in chapter one of all my stories so everyone knows where I can be found. See my profile for the link to my homepage.**

-----------------------------------

"_WHAT!?"_

The man blinked, his eyes unnaturally magnified by glasses thick enough to be a walking advertisement for the ocular industry.

"I'm… sorry? What was that?"

Klavier pushed his bangs out of his aching eyes. "German. My apologies."

"Ah, none necessary, though you shouldn't be so worried. There are many other options out there for you."

The flame of hope gained strength. "Really? There is a better brand?"

The man blinked again. "No… but we have a fine selection out front."

The flame sputtered and died. Klavier bowed his head in defeat.

"Now don't worry so much, Mr. Gavan; we have many stylish choices in wire, plastic…"

"Ja, ja…" the rock star sighed as he stood and shook the man's hand. "I'll find something to suit me."

----------

The next day as he got ready for work, the young prosecutor stared at the two cases sitting on his bathroom counter. One small with two screw-on caps, the other larger with a simple clam hinge. Such inconspicuous containers, but both held such frustration.

He almost reached for the smaller of the two, but remembered the lecture Detective Skye had given him after he failed to recognize something she was pointing out in a crime scene. Worse than the way she made him sound like an irresponsible child was the fact she was absolutely right. He couldn't let this _problem_ affect his job.

"Little plastic demons," he muttered as he dropped the container into the trash. "Little demons with your protein buildups and blurring and uncomfortableness."

He continued mumbling while he brushed his teeth, unwilling to open the second case and submit to his fate. He managed to avoid it until he was out the door, and then had to run back in to retrieve the accursed case before leaving for the district.

They felt bulky and uncomfortable on his nose. He caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror and winced.

"_Big_ plastic demons."

With a final defeated sigh he adjusted both his mirrors and his new glasses before driving off to work.

----------

"It's about time you did something about it."

Klavier tried _very_ hard not to glare at Detective Skye. Her expression was far too amused for someone kneeling by a multiple stab wound victim. He did take some comfort in the fact that the glasses were a huge improvement over his contact lenses; the scene was far less blurry.

Sadly, the glasses were also fantastically more noticeable.

"Are we done pretending not to look?" he asked the room, already too tired to mask his annoyance. "May we return to the crime scene?"

Klavier spent the rest of the morning rather snappish, for him. It was very low on the overall irritation meter, particularly when many at the force remembered the sting of a certain whip, but it was dramatically out of character for the rock star to be anything but smiles and flirtatious banter. Even though Emma Skye had been looking for that sort of change since she first met the prosecutor, she was a touch worried. Once the body had been carted away she pulled him aside.

"You do realize your glasses _are_ easy to spot, right?"

The frames were a somewhat chunky style in clear and transparent red plastic. He didn't respond.

"Look, prosecutor, they're different. People will notice. But they'll get over it." She considered his face the same way she examined a crime scene. "Besides... I guess they're not that bad looking."

She was then called away by a patrolman and Klavier was left with her words. He did know this overall reaction was coming, and the fact that he could _see_ the evidence for the first time in ages outweighed anything else. It was more the fact that his looks weren't what bothered him... well, they _did_, and he was still a little unsure about the style, but that wasn't the main thing.

He tried to put it out of his mind, adjusted the odd heavy weight on his nose, and turned back to the task at hand.

----------

For lunch he ate at Eldoon's. Instead of sitting at a table he took his bowl outside and sat on a low concrete wall, simply _looking_ at things while he ate. He didn't realize his vision was quite that blurry, and the difficult contacts hadn't helped that much. The world was crisp once again, with a finer texture and pattern. Nothing so dramatic as the blind seeing once again, but still, it was nice.

"P... Prosecutor Gavan?"

The hesitant and familiar voice brought Klavier out of his contemplation. He saw Justice and Trucy Wright walking towards him, likely stopping by Eldoon's as well. Apollo looked like he didn't quite know what to make of the new look. Trucy, however, was as enthusiastic as ever.

"Oh wow," she said as she pushed back her hat, "I didn't know you needed glasses."

He smiled. After all the stealthy stolen glances, the honesty was refreshing.

"Ja, actually I have worn contacts for several weeks, but they didn't work."

"Is that why you've been rubbing your eyes in court recently?" Apollo asked, his head tilted and gaze distant.

Klavier fought the urge to laugh; Justice _would_ notice. "These glasses work much better."

"Well, that's good then," Trucy said, gracefully leaping up onto the wall and leaning down to study the prosecutor's new look. "Why'd you pick plastic frames?"

"Ah... just more comfortable," he replied, not untruthfully, but from the look on the defense attorney's face the sudden tension had been noted.

"Well I think they look great on you!" she declared as she leapt down, completing her landing with a bow. "Come on, Polly, I'm hungry."

She continued to Eldoon's, but Apollo lingered.

"I would've never guessed those'd be your style."

"What _would_ be my style?" And Klavier knew he was being defensive for no good reason, but he couldn't seem to help it. Apollo was unfazed.

"The red just seems off... black, maybe?"

Klavier considered it. Black would match his usual outfit better, and be more versatile for other occasions. There were several plastic frames in black that he didn't bother to examine; perhaps he should go back and check the stock.

While he was thinking about it, Trucy called for Apollo.

"Goodbye, Herr Forehead."

There was that childishly stubborn glare and then he was walking away. Klavier smirked to himself. So long as it was outside of court, an encounter with those two always brightened his day.

----------

Later that evening, Klavier was still in his office studying the coroner's report for the stabbing victim. He was on the last page when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he said, looking up and expecting to startle yet another co-worker with his new look. To his surprise, it was Apollo Justice who walked in the door.

"She said to come get the autopsy report from you...?"

Nothing like a day in court opposite Justice to make him forget about his glasses. He held out the envelope.

"Thanks," Apollo said as he accepted the report.

"I'll see you in court."

The defense attorney nodded and headed for the door. Klavier turned back to his own copy, eager to finish the tedious paperwork, but after several long moments he still hadn't heard the click of the latch. He looked up and Apollo was standing there, back to the desk and hand on the handle.

"Ja...?"

"You don't look like him, you know?"

Klavier almost felt his heart stop. But of _course_ Justice noticed.

"Herr--"

"I used to work for him." Apollo turned back and smiled. "Even if you had wire frames you wouldn't look like him."

Klavier was, for once, left speechless. The defense attorney made his escape.

When the prosecutor turned back to his report, the weight on his nose seemed a little bit less.


End file.
